My Cousin Miguel
by blooming-into-a-wallflower
Summary: UPDATE: This was going to be a Sterek fic that lasted about 5 or so chapters but now I think I may actually just rewrite the whole fourth season. Of course it'll totally still be Sterek and Derek will be a teen through most of it, but there are so many unanswered questions in this season and it annoys me. So I'll come up with my own answers. I hope you like it!
1. Frustrations

**AN: Hello! Um, alright. So this is my first Sterek fic. I posted the first chapter on Archive of our Own about ten days ago and I just finished chapter two tonight and I remembered that I had meant to post the fic here as well. So I'm doing that now. I hope you like it! Please leave reviews because I really want to know how I'm doing since this is my first Sterek fic and I have every intention of making this a long fic. **

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It had only been about a week since Scott and Braeden had rescued Derek from underneath La Iglesia in Mexico. And no matter how much everyone wanted to deny it, the seventeen year old boy they had rescued from the ruins of the ancient church was most definitely the Derek Hale who had fought at their sides many times and occasionally threatened to tear out the throat of one spastic and hyperactive Stiles Stilinski. It took some time to adjust to the new (though Stiles was want to argue that this Derek was actually the older version of Derek because "Hey! This Derek is from like eleven years ago. Our Derek is from now and so that obviously makes him newer even though he is older!" And he'd argue with Scott until everyone was confused and eager for them both to shut up.) Derek especially since he had no memory of them or anything that had happened since the fire that had claimed the lives of most of his family.

Breaking that news to him hadn't been a particularly pleasant experience either. Originally Scott had wanted to tell the young Hale the complete truth right off the bat but Stiles had insisted that it would only push him away and make it harder for either of them to be of any help to the confused werewolf. And in the heat of the moment, Scott had panicked and mentioned that the Hale family was still alive but just not living in the Hale house anymore. He seemed to buy it and, just as Stiles had predicted, went willingly along with Scott. That is- Until Agent McCall had gone and told Derek, who he was under the impression was Stiles' cousin Miguel, exactly what had occurred to the Hale family. Stiles had desperately attempted to steer the conversation away from the subject and toward the egg rolls they were eating but failed. Derek hadn't taken the news very well but he refrained from acting out in front of Agent McCall. Once he and Stiles were alone was a different matter, though, and Stiles was left with a few bruises to remember the occasion by. Even though Derek couldn't possibly weigh much more than him, he still had the power of a werewolf and Stiles was unfairly the weaker one yet again.

When Kate Argent made her reappearance and convinced Derek to let her into the family vault he started to learn more of what had happened. Kate had been the one to kill his family? If all his family was dead, why the hell was Peter there? His head hurt. Thankfully he was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar howl he registered as Scott's. He rushed the Alpha's aid, throwing himself at the Berserkers and fighting with all his will. Since he couldn't control his shift he struggled at first but then something changed. According to him, he'd blacked out and then woken up just as the Berserkers ran off. But from Scott, Kira, and Malia's view, Derek kept shifting from human to wolf and then from teenager to adult. It looked to them, as they watched a panting twenty-seven year old Derek, that his time as a teenager was over. But then he collapsed on to the cool concrete ground with a loud thud and when the trio rushed over to his side, they were looking into the unconscious face of a Derek who was their age once again. They immediately brought the unconscious teen to Stiles' house since there really was no other place to bring him.

Unlike the Derek they were all used to and somewhat intimidated by, this Derek seemed willing enough to listen to Scott since he had revealed himself as an Alpha. And there hadn't been any threats about tearing Stiles' throat out with his teeth. Oddly enough, Stiles found himself missing those threatening words that he never took serious anyways. Though Derek did still seemed to find him annoying. And he'd balked when they'd all agreed that he should stay at Stiles' just to further the belief that he was Stiles' cousin Miguel. Peter had disappeared and the pack wanted to be able to keep a close eye on Derek as they tried to find a way to transform him back.

Living with Stiles was a pain, Derek learned quickly. And by quickly, it only took him ten minutes of staying alone with the other to come to that conclusion. A few hours after he'd collapsed at the school after the fight, he had woken up on Stiles' couch with concerned and curious faces staring down at him only to be informed that he'd be staying with Stiles and his father, the Sheriff who had let him go earlier. As soon as Scott had left, leaving Derek in Stiles' care, the boy had all but bounced onto the couch with him. Derek had shoved him away with a frown tugging down the corners of his lips. "Good to see you're still a sour wolf, Miguel." Stiles snarked, pulling himself off the ground. "My name is Derek. I get it that you and everyone else has to use that stupid name when other people are around but you don't have to when they're not. Got it? And what the hell is a sour wolf?" Derek scowled, wishing he were anywhere but there. Stiles didn't seem to get the hint and continued smiling. "A sour wolf is you, Derek Hale. That's the exact translation." He admitted with pride. Derek rolled his eyes. "That doesn't make sense. Now just leave me alone." He turned away, rolling on to his side and closing his eyes. "I'm going to sleep." Stiles hesitated, standing awkwardly next to the couch. He wasn't sure what to do in this case. This Derek was different. Usually there would have been a death threat thrown somewhere in there and the lack of one was rather disconcerting. So Stiles nodded and went to his room, leaving the grumpy werewolf alone for the rest of the night.

Stiles wasn't completely sure when exactly he'd begun falling for the grumpy and sour Derek Hale. In all honesty, he wasn't even sure _why_ he even liked him in the first place. But he did. He really did. Enough so that none of the other's grumpy and most often rude remarks would be able to drive him away. Seeing Derek like this… It hurt Stiles, it really did. It's not like usual Derek ever reciprocated his feelings or anything, but it was painful to be around a Derek who didn't even remember him. He looked right through him and never replied to his sarcastic remarks or even gave him the "shut up right now, Stiles, or I will slam your face into your steering wheel _again," _look. Of course, it had only been two or three days since the teenage version of his sour wolf had come, more accurately been forced, to stay with him. Maybe in some time Derek would start acting more like, well, Derek. All Stiles could do was hope it would be soon.

It took a few days, but everyone eventually started to get along though they weren't as close as before. Derek trusted Scott but thought Stiles was nothing more than a fool. He accepted Kira and Malia though he was wary of them, especially Kira. Lydia was a complete mystery to him. But he was entranced by her red hair. (Stiles always corrected him with an exasperated sigh and the words: "It's strawberry blonde! How many times do I have to remind you?" Which would earn him an eye roll from Lydia and a glare from Derek.) Derek was uncomfortable and always nervous. It bothered him that he couldn't remember his family's deaths and that the brother of the woman who had murdered them was now helping him. How did something like that even happen? It was just incomprehensible. There was so much that he was missing and all he really wanted to do was have a long talk with his mother about this whole crazy situation. But that wasn't possible anymore and so he was resigned to suffering in silence. His own silence, that is. Things were never silent when you were living with Stiles.

Dr. Deaton had no clue how Kate had managed to change Derek's age so drastically. Which meant he had no idea how to reverse the process and bring back the Derek from now. But that didn't stop Deaton from searching for a way to change him back. One day, while everyone was gathered at the veterinary clinic, Malia pointed out that Derek had transformed back for a moment while he was fighting the Berserkers and suggested that maybe if he was worked into an emotional state like that again, he'd shift and maybe, just maybe, it would be permanent this time. No one really thought it would work, but they were willing to try anything at this point. Of course, Derek hadn't wanted to fight with Scott since he was the Alpha and Kira was crossed off the list too because Derek didn't feel comfortable going up against her katana. And Lydia refused to even be up for consideration. Malia almost annoyed him to the point where he snapped at her but Stiles, tired of beating around the bush, was the one to push him over the edge.

"Seriously? What kind of werewolf won't fight a teenage girl just because she swings a pointy weapon in his direction? And Scott? He may be an Alpha but that never stopped you from kicking his ass in the past!" Stiles threw his hands up in the air with a dramatic, exasperated sigh. "I'm really disappointed in you, Derek. I can't believe you let Kate take so much away from you again! First it was your family and now she took your bad ass-ness. You're- You're just as useful as a puppy." He could have said things that were a lot worse but he was frustrated with this un-Derek Derek. Stiles desperately missed past Derek. His Derek. Well, not _his_ specifically… Though, he definitely wouldn't have minded if Derek was his specifically. But back on topic. Even though this Derek wasn't his Derek, Stiles' crush on the sour wolf still remained as strong as ever and that added on to his frustration. How could he like someone so different than the Derek he had known and come to care deeply about? Older Derek was still a hell of a lot more attractive, though, there was no arguing that.

Stiles' words might have been snappy at best, but they hit their desired mark and Derek growled, his eyes blazing cerulean blue as his nails sharpened into claws. So maybe angering a werewolf who couldn't control his shift wasn't the best thing for a one-hundred and forty pound human boy to do. But when had Stiles ever been one to make practical decisions? Never. And he wasn't likely to start anytime soon. For example, at the moment Stiles should probably be running away or apologizing profusely to the growling werewolf that was now crouching and getting ready to pounce on him. But, sticking to his usual Stiles' nature, he didn't. Instead he tossed more sarcastic words, egging Derek on. "I think, in this case, your bark is worse than your bite. Well, growl, actually. You're not frightening at all. Like I said before, you're just a pup- Eee ahhh!" His words were cut off as he threw himself to the floor and out of the way of a very much pissed off werewolf who chose that moment to leap at Stiles' face with fangs bared.

Ever since he had met Stiles Slinky or whatever his name was, Derek was in a constant state of annoyance. Literally everything about Stiles rubbed him the wrong way: his sarcasm, his moles, his spastic nature, that stupid red hoodie he always wore, and those caramel colored eyes that he couldn't stop thinking about on occasion. It was especially annoying to not be able to put Stiles from his mind. He had a hard time believing that he'd actually been _friends_ with Stiles. The urge to punch him in the face or slap him on the back of the head was growing to be an ever present feeling. Especially since he had to live with him! Why the hell did he have to be Stiles' cousin Miguel? Why couldn't he have just stayed with Scott? Unbeknownst to him, it was actually Stiles behind the whole thing. Ever since Derek had run off with Kate, Stiles didn't even want to think about letting him get out of his sight. It might be due to jealously more than Derek's own safety, but so what? There was no way in hell Stiles would ever let that bitch have her hands on Derek again, whether she was a were-jaguar or not.

Derek landed gracefully in the spot Stiles had just vacated, quickly whirling around to face Stiles with a snarl. The teenager in question, scrambled backwards with his hands, his brown eyes wide with surprise more than fear. "Whoa! Derek! Buddy? Hey! Be careful- I'm a fragile human being!" He huffed indignantly and quickly pushed himself into a standing position, hands on hips. This gave Derek pause for a moment. Yes, Stiles was an annoying spaz who should just mind his own business, but he was also intriguing. How many one-hundred and forty pound boys out there would face down a snarling werewolf with such calm ease? Not many, he would wager. But still. Stiles needed to be taught when to keep his mouth shut. They might be the same age and currently sharing the same house, but that didn't make them friends.

Derek launched himself at the boy again. Stiles barely stumbled out of the way in time. "Watch it!" He shouted as Derek's claws nearly raked across his cheek. "Why should I when you don't watch what you say?" Derek growled, his cerulean blue eyes flashing threateningly. "You're so annoying, Stiles. Don't you know when to shut up?" Stiles crossed his arms and flashed an arrogant smirk. "Nope." Derek growled again and Stiles' smirk faded from his lips. "Hey! I'm just being honest. Would you rather I lied to you and said yes? If that's the case- Yes. I can shut up. Like right now. Yep. I'm shutting up."

Scott, Kira, and Lydia both groaned and winced visibly, wishing their friend would learn when to stop and yet none of them made a move to stop the aggravated werewolf. Malia sat cross legged on the floor, highly entertained by the action unfolding in front of her. Deaton shook his head, "if you two break anything, you both will regret it. I advise you to calm down before it comes down to that." The veterinarian's words fell on deaf ears as Stiles and Derek completely ignored him. Derek snarled and grabbed a handful of Stiles' hoodie, yanking him close and pressing their noses together as he glared at him. "I will tear your throat out with my teeth, Stiles, if you don't shut up right now." He hissed.

And surprisingly, Stiles actually shut up. He was more or less shocked into silence. Derek almost sounded like, well, _Derek_. He just stared with wide eyes at the face that, for the faintest of moments, had looked familiar with a dark, stubbled chin and sharp features. His heart skipped a beat and his breath left him in a rush. If it hadn't been for the mirrored surprise on the faces of his friends, Stiles would have thought he had imagined the brief change in Derek's appearance. Malia jumped up and cheered. "It worked! I knew it would!" Scott shook his head and looked at the excited coyote. "No, it didn't. He's still a teenager." She waved a derisive hand in the air, satisfied with the outcome even though it hadn't exactly been what they were hoping. "Whatever. At least we know that anger brings your Derek back. All Stiles has to do is make him more angry and maybe it will be permanent this time! Quick, Stiles, do it again!"

"Uh, maybe another time?" Stiles said when he'd finally found his voice. Yes, he was a sarcastic smart ass. And yes, he never really knew when enough was enough. But when your face is not even an inch away from elongated canines, you begin to reconsider your sanity or lack thereof in this case. Derek shook with the effort it took to control himself and Stiles realized that now was definitely not a good time to listen to Malia and push Derek even further past the breaking point. He held up his hands in a sign of defense. "Okay. Hey. Derek, listen. I'm sorry, alright?" He winced as the other's grip on his hoodie tightened. "I'm being serious! I really am sorry! I said those things because… because we needed something to piss you off to test Malia's theory. Which, by the way, actually kind of worked." Not exactly a lie. But he was omitting the fact that he was more or less venting out some of his own frustration. "So maybe now you can sheath your claws before you poke someone's eyes out? And by someone, I definitely mean me." He leaned away from Derek's face, uselessly trying to pull away from the Beta.

Scott picked up the worry in his best friend's voice and stiffened, his own eyes turning the red color of an Alpha's eyes. Derek's own blue gaze shifted from Stiles to Scott for a brief moment. He had no intentions of hurting Stiles but he was aware that that wasn't really all that reassuring. He _was_ a puppy. Already seventeen and still struggling to control his shifts. 'Alpha, Beta, Omega,' he repeated silently in his head, making use of the trick Peter had taught him. Slowly his claws retracted, as did the hair on his face. His eyes faded from their brilliant blue hue and back to green. He let Stiles go abruptly and took a step back, breathing heavily. Stiles landed on his ass with an "Oof!" of surprise coming from his lips. "You could have been more gentle. Hello, fragile human here," Stiles huffed as he pushed himself to his feet, inspecting the small tears in his hoodie from Derek's claws. "My clothes are fragile too."

Derek ignored Stiles' protests and whines, turning to Scott. "This was a stupid idea. I can't control my shift. Besides, I don't think I can get angry or excited enough to actually do whatever it is you guys are hoping I do! It's all pointless!" He raked his fingers through his hair, casting glances at the faces in the group surrounding him. Scott reached out and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't stupid. It proved that you do shift back when you're pushed to a certain point emotionally. Which means we can use to that to shift you back, possibly." The Alpha sounded hopeful but Derek didn't want to hear it anymore.

"Shift back? Listen. Do you know how crazy this whole thing sounds? One moment I'm a twenty-seven year old man and then Kate Argent, my insane ex-girlfriend who apparently killed my family and somehow turned into were-jaguar when my uncle scratched out her throat, kidnaps me and somehow manages to de-age me or whatever and now I'm stuck living with this guy," he jabs a finger accusingly in Stiles' direction, "who wakes up screaming in the middle of the night and sometimes wanders into my room on his way back from the freaking bathroom!" Stiles opens his mouth to protest but Derek silences him with an icy glare. "Shut up, Stilinski. My point is that I don't want to believe any of this. I want my family back! I can't do this, Scott. I really can't." His voice wavered with emotion. Derek sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall in defeat, closing his eyes as if to block out everything.

Everyone was at a loss for words. Figuring that Derek probably needed a moment alone, Lydia ushered Malia and Kira toward the door. The Kitsune went understandingly, but the coyote protested and tried to grab on to Stiles but failed and was tugged away by the banshee with assistance from Deaton. The three guys remained in an uncomfortable silence which was only broken by Malia's audible complaints coming from the other room about missing all the action, which everyone did their best to ignore.

Stiles threw a "what the hell are we supposed to do now," look toward Scott but the Alpha only shrugged unknowingly. Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed through his nose; it was up to him to comfort Derek. Of course, he was probably the last person on earth the werewolf wanted comfort from and Stiles was very much aware of that. But hearing the pain in Derek's voice twisted something inside of his gut, making him want to hug the other close until all was well. Seeing as how that definitely was out of the question, Stiles settled on the one thing he could do best. Talk. He squatted down next to Derek, keeping enough distance in between them.

"Derek?" Stiles paused to give Derek a chance to reply. When no reply came and his throat remained un-tore out, he continued. "We all know this is hard on you. And none of us really know what we're doing either, to be honest. But we're trying. And not just to help ourselves, but to help you too." The smaller teen sighed awkwardly, running a hand through his mussed up hair. "Yeah, it's pretty hard to believe that a few weeks ago you were twenty seven and now you're seventeen but it's true. None of us have anything to gain from lying to you about any of this."

Derek remained silent through Stiles' little speech, his face buried into his crossed arms. Stiles sat back on his heels and glanced towards Scott for a little assistance. The Alpha reached out and put his hands back on the Beta's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze that would bruise anyone who wasn't fueled with supernatural powers. "We're here for you, but if you need a little time, we can try to give it to you." Stiles' raised an eyebrow at Scott's words but didn't ruin the moment with the sarcastic comment that was at the tip of his tongue. They really didn't have much time to do anything let alone let angsty teenager Derek stew in his own juices for who knows how long. Kate was still on the loose with those nasty berserkers and someone had apparently stolen the entire Hale fortune. Not to mention the fact that nothing in Beacon Hills ever said calm for long.

The tension filled silence dragged on for what seemed like an hour but was probably only a few minutes. Derek finally looked up, glancing between the human on his right and the Alpha on his left. He met Scott's gaze and shook his head faintly. "No. I need time but I'm not giving up. I _can_ do this. I'm tired of being the helpless werewolf who can't control his shift while Peter makes teasing remarks, or in this case, Stiles. I want to be strong and powerful. Like- Like you Scott." Stiles rolled his eyes at that since Derek wasn't able to see him do it. Scott shot a warning look in his direction before focusing on Derek. "You were strong, Derek. Stronger and more powerful than me. And you can go back to that, I'm sure of it. You helped me so many times and without you I'd probably be dead." Derek didn't look as if he believe Scott's words, but hearing that he'd become powerful and strong like an Alpha seemed to mollify him for the time being.

"Well, now that that all figured out how about we go and get something to eat? Being chased around by a werewolf always works up my appetite." Stiles' impromptu commentary actually earned a snort from Derek and a nod of agreement from Scott. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. How does pizza sound?" Both Stiles and Derek parted their lips to reply but the sounds of Malia's voice cut them off. "Yes! Pizza! With extra pepperoni and cheese!"


	2. Guilty

The pack ended up gathered in the Stilinskis' living room, really having nowhere better for six hungry teenagers to go. One plain cheese and two extra pepperoni pizzas with a side of breadsticks were ordered with the promise that the order would be free if it was delivered more than thirty minutes after the order was placed. Usually Stiles all but prayed that the delivery guy was at least half a minute late even though the pizza place was only a few streets away and the food always arrived in twenty five minutes or less. But tonight was different. He didn't even set the timer as per his usual and so Scott had been the one to set his own phone as a timer. No, Stiles' attention was focused elsewhere and he was completely distracted from the thought of free pizza. Which had Scott and the rest of his friends worried because Stiles loved free food. Who didn't?

Derek sat in a recliner that he had carefully scooted closer to the corner furthest away from the gathered group, pretty much isolating himself. Stiles' teeth worried at his bottom lip as he watched the werewolf from the corner of his eye. He was honestly tired of watching himself when he was around the other but he didn't feel like it was time to traverse the distance between them yet. Lydia plopped gracefully onto the open spot on the couch next to Stiles. Her gaze followed Stiles' and a sigh parted her pink-painted lips. "He really needs to stop brooding like some werewolf in stereotypical teen fiction. With all that frowning it's a wonder he doesn't have frown lines by the time he's twenty six." Her voice alone was enough to pull Stiles from his thoughts and back into reality. Even though a part of him still loved the strawberry blonde banshee, he accepted his role in the friendzone. Especially since it let him spend so much time with her and that was so much better than being completely off her radar like he had been from third grade until the end of sophomore year.

Stiles shook his head, turning his attention to Lydia. "I get why he's like this, though. I mean, he just had to go through losing his family all over again. And the last time, it took like ten years to realize what an absolute asshole his uncle was. Now everything's kind of been thrown at him all at once. So it's understandable that he needs a little time to adjust to everything." He slumped back against the couch, his mind still filled with thoughts of one Derek Hale. Lydia arched an eyebrow and glanced back at the sulking werewolf. "I get that, but he treats us like we're the enemy even though we're the ones trying to help him. I mean, we did drive all the way to Mexico, confront a group of hunters who tied me to a chair and threatened to electrocute me, and rescue him from the ruins of an ancient temple. We have lives to focus on too, you know." She sounded annoyed but Stiles could tell that the banshee was just as frustrated as everyone else. She still didn't know the extent of her powers and what she was truly capable of doing. In fact, she didn't even know how to use the powers she was aware of. Stiles reached a hand out and gently brushed a strand of strawberry blonde hair from her face, bringing her focus back on him. "Lydia, you're right. But if we try to force him into this, he'll just be all the more stubborn. I guess we could always have Scott wolf out and Alpha him into not being a brat but I have no idea if that would even work, either."

Lydia contemplated Stiles' words for a silent moment but when she finally spoke, she effortlessly managed to change the subject. "Yes, of course it's hard on him but what about you?" Stiles raised an eyebrow and tried to look as innocent as he could manage which really wasn't all that innocent at all. "What are you talking about? It's not like I lost ten years of my life or anything. But if I did, I'd be like seven and that really wasn't a good year for me. I mean, you still didn't know I existed and my mom-" He was cut off by Lydia's "Stiles!" and promptly ceased talking. "Stop rambling, you know exactly what I mean. Derek's here living with you and the feelings you have toward him must-" Now it was Stiles' turn to cut off the observant banshee with a gentle finger pressed to her lips. "Sssh. Werewolves have _really_ good hearing, remember?" He mouthed and held up his phone. "Text me."

Lydia rolled her eyes but pulled out her phone and quickly typed out a message with her thumbs like she'd done it a thousand times before. She probably had- and more. "I want to call you an idiot but this isn't that bad of a plan. Though the others might think we're stupid for texting each other."

Stiles' phone chimed and he read her message, smirking as he glanced toward where Kira and Scott were distracted with each other. Well, more like distracted by being awkward and nervous as they tried to talk about plans they were making to make up for a night ruined by wasabi and show off fathers. Not that Stiles was paying much attention to them or anything though he really wished Scott would just ask Kira on a date already. You could only beat around the bush so far. "Yeah, well it's not like they know we're texting each other or anything." His reply was accompanied by a chime from Lydia's phone.

It wasn't long before his own phone went off and his attention was one against focused on the words displayed on the screen. "Back on topic. I know you have a crush on Derek. Or did, at least. Do you still have a crush on him?" Stiles inhaled through his nose, trying to keep his breathing from becoming erratic. He typed slowly, carefully checking each and every word. "To be honest, I don't know. I like Derek, yes. I _really_ like him, to be exact. And that grumpy teenager brooding in the corner is Derek even though I wish it were different. And that guy turns into the man I do have a crush on. But I don't like him. Not the same way I like my Derek. And that makes me a horrible person, doesn't it? If you love someone aren't you supposed to love everything about them, even their aggravating teen side?" He sent the text before he could make a bigger fool of himself. His eyes focused on the mantle above the fire place, looking anywhere but at the girl who was now privy to some of his personal thoughts on a subject he didn't feel comfortable speaking about with anyone.

Lydia re-read Stiles' text twice wanting to make sure she fully understood what Stiles was getting at. She typed quickly with years of practice behind her. "No, Stiles, no. There's always something about the person you fall for that you're not going to like. With Jackson I hated having to dumb myself down to flatter his ego. And with Aiden I hated how his first thought was always of his brother and not me. And I'm pretty sure there'll be something between-" Lydia paused, having almost typed out "between Parrish and I," but she wasn't ready to go there just yet seeing as there wasn't really any where to go with the relationship she shared with the young deputy. "You and Derek. He probably doesn't like the way you snore or something equally ridiculous." She hit send, watching Stiles from the corner of her gaze. Her phone buzzed and she glanced back at the device, frowning because it was far too soon for Stiles to reply. But he had and his text made her roll her eyes in exasperation. "I do not snore," he had typed with three exclamation points and an indignant emoticon for additional emphasis. As if three exclamation points weren't enough.

Stiles smirked at his phone, amused by himself and the fact that the scowl that crossed Lydia's lips was because of him. "But I get what you're saying," Stiles started typing his actual reply. "And the only thing I guess I can do now is to wait for him to go poof and change back into the Derek I fell for. I won't be a dick or cop an attitude with him because none of this is fault. I'll just be my usual sarcastic and loveable self. And I'll tease him relentlessly until he threatens to punch me in the face. But if I ever get my hands on Kate, I swear to God she won't like what happens." He sent the reply and let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he let his own words sink in. Derek _was_ Derek and damn it all if Stiles still liked him as something more. Just because he wasn't what Stiles was used to didn't mean he'd lost all respect and other feelings for the man. In fact he tried to view it as Derek needing his help more than ever even though the teen wolf wasn't fully aware he needed such help. He let his eyes move back and rest on the male in question, studying him while pretending to look out the window.

Derek could feel Stiles' eyes on him and the urge to abruptly stand and leave the room was hard to resist. But he somehow managed. Scott had asked him to stay and have pizza with them as a member of the pack and refusing an Alpha was a nearly impossible thing to do. So he'd held back the refusal that had been at the tip of his tongue and nodded meekly, accepting the offer. And now here he was, sulking in the corner of the Stilinskis' living room while the people around him talked and went on with their lives. The Alpha was blushing and so was the Kitsune, her name was Kira or something like that. It was obvious the two had certain feelings for each other but were unsure of how to proceed. Paige came to mind and his heart squeezed painfully. No, he didn't want to think of Paige. It felt like it was just last month that he'd held her limp body in his arms and had her blood coating his hands. He shook his head and turned his gaze toward the were-coyote who was sprawled out on the loveseat and flipping through channels on the TV aimlessly with the occasional growled complaint that the food should be here already.

He didn't want to look at Stiles and Lydia but curiosity killed the cat, not the wolf. And so his gaze landed on the human and the banshee only to find them both absorbed in their phones. He frowned and focused on the sound of electronic clicking. It didn't take long for him to notice that every time one of the two hit send, the other's phone would beep moments after. Ah, so they were texting each other, were they? He could understand that with four supernatural beings that possessed supernatural hearing privacy might be a little hard to obtain. But everyone but him was preoccupied with their own affairs. He couldn't help but think that the two on the couch were texting one another because they didn't want him specifically to hear their conversation. And that only served to pique his interest and curiosity even more. It's not like he _really_ wanted to know what they were texting about. For all he knew they could be talking about something irrelevant and too personal for his tastes. Cell phones and texting hadn't really been all that advanced when he'd… Well, in the time he remembered. Ten years ago, apparently, when he'd been a junior in high school and captain of the basket ball team.

Derek turned away from the rest of the group gathered in the small living room and focused on the blank wall in front of him. He'd snapped earlier without meaning to. Embarrassment and disappointment tugged his lips into a scowl. He had more self control than to whine about the unjustness in his life. And yet that's exactly what he'd done. He was aware that Scott wanted to help him. Stiles too even though Derek doubted the awkward boy would be of any help to him unless it was volunteering to be a distraction or cover up. He rubbed his hand across his forehead and sighed. His mom would know what to do. She always knew what to do. But she couldn't help this time, could she? Derek grit his teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his heart that came with thinking of his former Alpha and mother. Talia Hale was dead, killed by his arsonist of a girlfriend. Didn't that make it his fault? His hands clenched into fists, knuckled turning white. He couldn't even remember the fire. Had he let Kate in that night? Had he helped her kill his pack and family unknowingly? A growl rumbled in his throat as the change slowly took control of him. His eyes shifted to the cerulean blue as his wolf started to come out and his claws pierced the fabric that upholstered the recliner he was sitting in.

Before his canines pressed against his bottom lip, his ears picked up a muttered "shit, not again," and the familiar voice gave him pause. But that didn't stop his change. His claws retracted and his eyes faded back to their usual green when a couch cushion smacked into the side of his face. His sudden surprise shocked the beginnings of his change away and brought back his humanity. His head swiveled toward where the cushion had come from even though he already knew who had been the one to hurl it in the direction of his face. Stiles and Lydia were staring at him with mirrored expression of concern. But there was something more in Stiles' brown eyes, something Derek didn't want to think about at this moment. Or ever, for that matter. He picked up the pillow and threw it toward Stiles' face with the strength of a werewolf giving it maybe a little too much force. It smacked against the other's chest and the force pushed him back into the banshee's lap as his breath left him in a rush. Derek couldn't help but wince knowing that it probably had hurt even though he hadn't meant it to.

Stiles had received Lydia's reply with uncertainty. He wasn't sure how she'd accept his logic. Would she agree or tell him he was being stupid? He knew she wouldn't call him an idiot but the latter kept coming back to mind the more he thought about the subject at hand. He clicked open the text after a brief moment's hesitation and read slowly. "Stiles, you can do more than that. I think you should take advantage of the situation, you know? Before-Derek didn't reciprocate your feelings but maybe you can get now-Derek to like you the way you like him. That way, when we figure out how to reverse what Kate did or it just wears off, there might be a chance he'll still keep those feelings." Stiles' brow furrowed in confusion. It seemed a little farfetched but he could see where Lydia was coming from. No one knew for sure what was happening or what would happen in the days to come. Maybe affecting young Derek would affect him as a twenty-six year old? Most likely not, but Stiles was the type to grasp at whatever straws were in reach.

"It's worth a try, I'll give you that. But now's not the best time to do it," he started. Okay, so maybe he was nervously beating around the bush. He'd never spoken with Derek concerning these particular feelings before and getting rejected by him, young or old, would hurt. It would probably hurt more than being ignored by the girl he'd crushed on for almost eight years. And Stiles had enough experience with that specific type of pain before and had no desire to relive any of it. "He just needs some time to-" a growl interrupted his train of thought and his thumb accidentally pressed against the send key. He lifted his head and fixed his gaze on the werewolf he knew had released the animalistic growl. "Shit, not again," he swore and stood, ready to make his way over to the shifting guy. But Lydia's hand on his wrist made him rethink his decision which honestly was kind of stupid. Approaching a werewolf with little control had never worked out too well before. There weren't too many other options and Scott was still engrossed with Kira. He looked around for something to throw. He pulled a cushion from the couch and threw it at the werewolf. Now, there were two ways this could turn out. First, getting hit in the face with a cushion could piss Derek of even more and he'd attack someone. And that someone would most likely be him. Or, secondly, it would snap him out of his change. The former definitely seemed more probable than the latter but Stiles really couldn't think of anything else to do.

Stiles cheered mentally when he saw Derek's eyes switch back to their normal hue and his claws and teeth retracting. Mission success! He hadn't anticipated Derek to send the couch cushion back his way, though, but having known Derek and his tendencies he probably should have seen it coming. Coming just like the cushion that was flying toward him at the moment. He tried to catch it but it sent him backwards and sprawling into Lydia. His breath left him in a pained gasp. Who knew a stuffing filled pillow could hurt so damn much? He groaned and rolled to the floor, maybe dramatizing things a little more than necessary. But, hey, that really had hurt.

The rest of the pack's attention had been drawn to Stiles and Derek when they'd noticed Stiles roll to the floor. Malia looked as if the two were more interesting than television and late pizza and now had her complete attention riveted on them. Kira looked concerned with worry flashing in her eyes and Lydia gazed down at Stiles, telling him to get up and to do something now before things got out of hand with just a look. Scott looked like he was ready to defend his best friend's honor. Which Stiles found really endearing. But this was between Derek and him, not the pack. He crawled to his feet, using the couch to pull him off the ground. He dusted himself off, wincing as his hands brushed against newly forming bruises. "Heel boy," he tossed good naturedly to Scott with his usual smile and sense of humor. "This is between sour wolf and I." The three looked dubious but backed down accordingly. However, Stiles was positive Malia was still listening carefully to hear whatever would happen next.

Derek watched as Stiles pulled himself up and calmed his friends. It surprised him how a human like Stiles had so much control over people who could easily tear him limb from limb if they so chose. He had to admit, he had some respect for Stiles. Not many humans could be brave enough to be a part of such a unique pack. Or stupid enough, for that matter. Stiles was definitely more stupid than brave, in all honesty. And that stupid boy was now walking over to him without a shred of fear on his face. He didn't want to cause a scene so he stood and walked stiffly into the kitchen without a single word.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at Derek's action but made no comment, choosing to follow him into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and turned to find Derek all but glaring at him. He held his hands up in defense but he retained his smile. "Why the angry face, Der-bear?" Derek took a threatening step toward Stiles. Normally a small shiver of terror would travel its way up his spine even though he wouldn't lose his "I'm not afraid of the big, bad sour wolf" face. But young Derek was less fear inspiring and no shiver passed through him.

"Why did you throw a pillow at me?" Derek asked in a voice that he hoped sounded intimidating. Stiles' brow arched as if the answer should be as obvious as Scott's infatuation with Kira. "You were losing control," he answered anyway but that only earned a glower from the werewolf. "I was not." He denied like a petulant child, "I was fully in control." Stiles crossed his arms and leaned his back against the closed door. "Right because growling and scratching up the arms of my dad's favorite chair is totally in control. Admit it- You were beginning to shift without meaning to." Derek slammed his palms against the wood of the door on either side of Stiles' head. "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

Okay, so young Derek could be intimidating if he wanted to be, Stiles was beginning to learn. He almost winced when Derek's hands slammed into the door behind him, inches away from his face. Almost. He managed not to, though Derek must have seen something in his eyes because a smirk twisted the side of his lips. He wanted to intimidate Stiles and he'd succeeded. Stiles regained his composure and snorted. "I know very well what I'm talking about, Derek. When Scott was going through his first change, it was up to me to help him because one, I'm his best friend and two, we thought you were a murderer. I researched the crap out of werewolves and I like to think I'm an expert on the subject by now. So, yeah, I think I know what I'm talking about."

Murderer? Derek was learning something new about himself every day it seemed. He hesitated before pulling back, fixing Stiles with a curious gaze. "I killed… someone?" His mouth replaced its smirk with a frown. Stiles looked confused for a moment but it didn't take more than a few seconds for him to recognize the emotion in Derek's eyes. Guilt. He'd experienced a lot of guilt the past few months after being possessed by an evil Japanese fox spirit. He'd done horrendous things under the Nogitsune's control. He'd killed people and built a bomb that he'd sent to his father's office, nearly destroying half of the station when it detonated. Thankfully his father hadn't been there at the time but at night he couldn't not think about what would have happened if his father had been. After they'd killed the Nogitsune and freed Stiles from his control the guilt and regret had been nearly overwhelming. He'd only been able to sleep with the use of sleep aides that kept him from dreaming. The dreams were always the worst. They seemed so real… They were more like memories, actually. Memories of the people he'd killed and hurt and everything awful he'd ever done. He wasn't over it yet, but the self loathing had begun to dissipate and he was able to function somewhat like a normal human being. A normal human being who was part of a pack and face supernatural creatures on a daily basis.

Stiles reached out to grab Derek's arm, giving it as hard of a squeeze as he could to snap him out of his funk. "Derek, you didn't kill anyone. When Scott and I first met you we kind of maybe just assumed you were the one who bit Scott and killed Laura and-" Derek took another step backward, nearly stumbling over his own feet. "Laura? You think I killed my own _sister_? Wait. Does that mean she survived the fire? Like Peter?" Back in the living room, the timer on Scott's phone beeped and Malia began to cheer about free pizza. Stiles licked his dry lips at the sudden bombard of questions. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Yeah, she survived. And you didn't kill her. Peter did." He watched as Derek's nostrils flared. His eyes started to glow blue but Derek closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were their normal green and filled with a wide variety of emotions. The most obvious of which was guilt. Stiles had no idea what Derek felt guilty about. Wasn't learning that he hadn't killed his sister a good thing?

The relief Derek felt over learning that Laura hadn't died at his hands was short lived. The fire had been his fault and the fire had turned his uncle into a monster that would kill his own flesh and blood to get what he desired. He'd been an idiot for trusting Kate, for letting her inside. If he hadn't let her trick him… None of this would have happened. His family would be alive and Peter wouldn't be a psychotic, power-hungry, niece killer. Well… Hopefully. Peter had always craved more power but he'd never act out against his sister and Derek's mother, Talia, who'd been Alpha over their pack. In a way, he had been the one to kill his family, Laura included. And the guilt from knowing that burned through him, making him want howl in anguish. A cool hand on his cheek brought him back to reality.

Derek was too quiet and Stiles wasn't sure what to do. Pulling the troubled teen close sounded like a good idea but Stiles didn't particularly feel like being clawed to death. So he stood awkwardly by as Derek was tortured by his personal demons. But when a tear fell from his eyes and trailed its way down Derek's unstubbled cheeks Stiles couldn't help himself. He reached out and wiped the offending droplet away with his thumb. He felt the were stiffen beneath his touch as he focused on Stiles. "What… What are you doing?" Derek frowned in confusion but didn't pull away. Stiles blinked, slowly pulling his hand back and wiping it on his jeans. "Ah, you were crying and I, uh, yeah… Sorry?" He finished lamely. Really, it was unfair how Derek, even as a guy his age, made him sound like such an idiot.

Stiles was an idiot. But this time, Derek didn't find him annoying. Almost sweet, actually. He shook his head to rid himself of that ridiculous notion. He really didn't want to be thinking of Stiles as anything other than an annoying spaz. "Oh. Thanks. But I wasn't crying." He huffed, raking a hand through his hair and glancing around the room in obvious denial.

Stiles tried to refrain from smiling but a grin curved his lips anyway. Oh, it was good to see the guilt momentarily gone from his sour wolf's eyes. "Fine, Mr. Sour Wolf, you never cry. Your eyes just leak when you get sad. There must be onions nearby or something," he commented and pushed away from the door, taking a few steps closer to Derek. "If I apologize about throwing the cushion at you will you try to be a little friendlier?"

Derek wrinkled his nose. "I don't have to be friendly to anyone. You and everyone else are the one's insisting I stick around so you can try and help me go back to my usual self or whatever." He couldn't help but notice how the caramel glow in Stiles' eyes dimmed at his gruff words so he relented slightly. "But, I will try just a little bit. Being nice to you and everyone else doesn't mean I have to like you or anything." Just as he finished he found himself with an armful of 140 pounds of Stiles. The boy in question was grinning uncontrollably from ear to ear. He let out a whoop of excitement and hugged Derek as tightly as he could.

Stiles could have stayed like that forever but the door behind him opened and Scott's voice interrupted the moment. "Hey, guys, I think we have a probl- Oh. Am I interrupting something?" Before Stiles could release his hold around Derek's neck he found himself forcefully shoved away. He threw an annoyed look at Derek but turned back to Scott, trying not to make it obvious just how annoyed with his best friend he really was for being interrupted at that moment. "What is it?"

"Well the delivery guy hasn't shown up yet." Scott started but was interrupted by Stiles before he could finish. "How is that a problem, dude? We've always wanted free pizza and now we finally get it." The Alpha shook his head. "No, we don't." At his best friend's inquisitive look he continued. "Malia got tired of waiting so she went out to see if she could hear the delivery van but instead she smelt blood and followed the scent trail. She found the delivery van with blood smears in the driver's seat just before she found the delivery guy."

Derek pushed passed Stiles, a frown wrinkling his forehead. "Is he okay? Why would anyone attack a pizza guy?" Stiles nodded along, wanting Scott to answer those questions. His friend's face was serious as he answered. "He's dead. His head was cut off and thrown into the bushes." Stiles' stomach churned at the gruesome image that came to mind. "I'm going to repeat Derek's question here; why would someone want to kill the pizza guy?"

Scott raked a hand through his already mussed up locks. "Stiles, he wasn't just a pizza guy. He was a werewolf."


	3. Blood

**[[ AN: I am so sorry! It's been what, two weeks since my last update? I meant to finish this last week but I've been so distracted. I moved into the dorms of my college on Saturday and I had my first classes today but I've some how managed to find time to finish this. I mean, it may be 1 AM but it was so worth it. I don't have any classes until noon anyways. PLEASE PLEASE tell me what you think of this chapter! I really want to know if you like the way I'm writing it or if you think I should change something? I'm pretty insecure about this stuff so at least tell me if you like it. The next chapter will be up later next week so enjoy! ]]**

Scott watched as Stiles followed Derek into the kitchen like a puppy and sighed softly to himself. His best friend had it bad. Really bad. He'd been aware of Stiles' particular feelings toward Derek Hale for awhile now. Of course, it hadn't clicked right away. But he had to admit, it was pretty damn obvious now that he thought about it. Stiles never hated anyone, except maybe Jackson but that was a given, and yet sometimes he'd act like he hated the older werewolf but the next moment he'd flash one of those sarcastic grins of his and say something that was undeniably flirtatious. It was confusing as hell. Especially since Derek always reciprocated by either slamming Stiles' head into whatever object was closest at hand be it wall or steering wheel, or promising to tear his throat out with his teeth. Stiles never seemed to take those threats seriously and usually responded with more sarcasm. Seriously. Scott sometimes found himself wondering if his best friend had a death wish or something. Even to Scott, Derek was intimidating and occasionally frightening. Though now that he was a seventeen year old, that intimidating and fear inspiring side to him was pretty much gone. Though seventeen year old Derek was definitely a problem, there were worse things that could have happened. However Stiles still treated him the same as if he were still his usual grumpy twenty seven year old self. And maybe that was a good thing. No one else knew how to act around him now that he was their age.

Scott wasn't exactly sure what to do with new-Derek. Even Deaton had no idea how to reverse whatever it was Kate had done. But he had this feeling that Stiles would somehow end up getting hurt if he didn't exercise some self control. Though Stiles had never been one for self control. Or thinking, for that matter. Like giving Scott a dog bowl with his name on it or throwing a freaking couch cushion at a werewolf currently in the middle of his shift. Definitely not wise choices. But that was Sties. And Scott couldn't ask for a better best friend. And as much as he wanted to be on the other side of that door right now to make sure Stiles didn't get his head ripped off because his sarcasm pushed Derek too far, he trusted him enough to leave them alone. Beside, a moment alone with Derek was probably all he wanted. Though probably not under these circumstances. So Scott didn't even bother using his wolf hearing to listen in on them. Though he was really tempted to. But the look Lydia had given him was enough to keep him on the couch next to Kira.

Even Malia had given up eavesdropping on their conversation after a few moments and moved to the front window to wait for the pizza guy who had yet to show up. Lydia was still texting- probably to the same person she had been all night, Scott thought with curiosity. Just like Stiles had assumed earlier, Scott had been too obsessed with Kira to notice that Stiles and Lydia had been texting each other. Speaking of Kira… Scott focused his attention back on her and she rewarded him with a brief, awkward smile that made his heart clench. He returned her smile and sank back into the comfortable couch. It took him a moment to remember what they had been talking about before Stiles' graceless fall from the couch had distracted them. Oh, right, their technical first date where Mr. Yukimura had been the one to ask Scott to come over for dinner and he'd nearly been killed by wasabi. Did that even count as a date? It had ended about as badly as it had started.

"So," he started lamely, "at least I know to avoid wasabi." He cursed himself for sounding like an idiot when Kira sighed and shook her head, making her hair bounce around her face; Scott once again losing focus as the movement distracted him for a brief moment. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off before he could make an even bigger fool of himself. "Scott, stop acting as if it wasn't an awful first date. How many dates end with kidnapping and accidentally shutting off power in the entire city?"

"That technically wasn't part of the date," he offers with a half smile tugging up the corner of the right side of his mouth but when Kira doesn't reciprocate his smile he sighs and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Hey, please cheer up. I've had worse first dates," he offers. Kira snorts and levels a serious look at him. "I doubt that, Scott. What could be worse than what happened to us?"

He shouldn't have gone there. Thoughts of Allison and their first date flooded his mind and his eyes took on a pained look. He thought about Allison constantly but he never talked about her to Kira. Or anyone else, for the matter. But there probably was some dating rule about not bringing up ex's in conversations with the girl you were crushing on, particularly ex's you'd held in your arms as they took their final breaths. Kira had been there when Allison died but she hadn't heard Allison's dying words to Scott nor did she know everything that had happened between them seeing as how she'd came to Beacon Hills after they'd stopped being a couple. But she knew he didn't like talking about it so she never brought up questions involving Allison and Scott loved her all the more for it. Love. Yes, he was in love with Kira. But not the same extent as he had loved Allison. Allison would always have her own little space in his heart. But whatever it was between Kira and he was new and still blooming into something more with each passing moment. That made it all the more special.

Kira interpreted his silence and the momentary flash of pain that had darkened his eyes as that the first date he was talking about probably involved Allison. Hating to see him with that look, she reached out to grab his hand, linking their fingers together. "Nevermind. First dates never really go well." She smiled cheerfully at him and brought him back from his thoughts of guilt and the past. He couldn't help but return her contagious smile as squeeze her hand. "That's probably true. My mom actually had a date with Peter once but Stiles purposefully bumped his Jeep into the back or her car and that pretty much ended the date." Kira stared at him with wide eyes before starting to laugh. "I'm not even sure I want to know about why Stiles had to do that." Scott shook his head, agreeing with her that she was better off not knowing.

Malia's loud groan interrupted their moment. She opened the door and glanced back to the three in the living room. "I can't take this anymore. The pizza was supposed to be here almost an _hour _ago and I'm starving. I'm going to go listen for the car." She disappeared without even so much as a single bye but that was the Malia they'd become used to. Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the time. "She's right you know. I mean, it's more like half an hour but still. They're never really late and what kind of traffic would there be at ten at night?" Scott stood just as Malia burst back into the house.

Lydia and Kira rose to their feet and focused on the were-coyote. "So? Did you hear the delivery guy?" Lydia asked but Malia ignored her, rushing over to Scott. "Blood. I smell blood." Her ominous confession made the hair on the back of Scott's neck stand up. "Where?" He asked, already moving for the door with Malia on his heels. Lydia and Kira shared a look and shook their heads before rushing out after Malia and Scott.

The scent of blood led the pack down the street and up the next, ending in an empty lot meant for foundation of a new house. With their supernatural ability to see in the dark, Malia and Scott spotted a van with the pizza delivery logo across the side and rushed over, followed closely by Kira. Lydia sighed and used her phone to illuminate the ground beneath her. The old Lydia would probably do so to avoid tripping and ruining the new pair of jeans she just bought. However, banshee Lydia pulled out her phone because something in the back of her mind told her to do so and shine it toward the bushes nearest the edge of the property. Meanwhile, Malia, Scott, and Kira explored the obviously abandoned van. "It smells like death," Malia muttered, eyeing blood smears on the steering wheel with disgust. Scott's nostrils flared as he scented the air. Yes, it did smell like death… But there was something off about the way the blood smelt.

"Scott," Kira called out, her eyes wide as she yanked an arrow from the back tire. "There's one here, too…" He said as he tugged a second arrow from one of the front tires. Malia glanced between the two of them. "Right. Okay. So how many car accidents involve tires shot up with arrows in Beacon Hills?" Scott shook his head and glanced into the van. "Probably more than you'd thing was normal," he muttered in reply before walking around to Kira at the back of the van. She bit her lip and met his gaze, looking worried. "Do you think it was hunters that did this?" She offered the arrow to him, an exact twin to the one he'd pulled from the other tire. He didn't want to deal with any more hunters, not after dealing with the ones they'd visited in Mexico. But the evidence was hard to deny.

"Yeah, I think it was hunters," Scott sighed, looking back and forth between Malia and Kira. "And the only reason they'd go after a pizza guy would be if he was something like us." That would also explain why the blood smelled different. Less human and more… Wolf like. He didn't get a chance to voice that comment aloud because Lydia's scream tore through the darkness, making the two with supernatural hearing wince. "Lydia!" Scott rushed back in the direction of the banshee's scream, Malia and Kira stumbling after him.

The smell of blood faded for a moment but it reappeared stronger than ever near the edge of lot where Lydia was standing as still as a statue. Scott stopped right next to her, glancing at her face to make sure she was alright before following her gaze and the direction of the light from her cell phone that illuminated the bushes before them, to the beheaded delivery guy who was a werewolf without a doubt now that Scott could smell him better. The claws that disfigured his human hands were a dead giveaway too. "So we know why hunters wanted to kill the pizza guy." He sighed as he knelt next to the body, touching its cold hand. Malia crossed her arms and frowned. "Couldn't they have killed him _after_ he delivered our pizza?" Both Lydia and Kira sent reproving glanced her way but Scott just shook his head. Speaking of heads… "Where's his head?" The four of them shared a look before turning in separate directions in search of the missing severed head.

* * *

"So wait, did you find the guy's head or not?" Stiles asked, glancing between the four who'd been on the scene. After Scott had ruined his and Derek's moment with the disturbing news, the pack had retreated back to the living room where Scott proceeded to inform Derek and him about what had happened. Lydia sat nervously perched on the edge of the couch with Scott and Kira sitting on the rest of it; their hands intertwined between them. Malia sat cross legged on the floor, munching on a sandwich she'd made seeing as how there was no chance she was getting any pizza that night. Stiles and Derek were on the loveseat seeing as how that was the only piece of furniture left aside from the one chair isolated in its own little corner. Not that Stiles was complaining or anything. Especially since Derek hadn't made a single comment about not wanting to sit next him. Aside from a murdered werewolf, a missing head, and the lack of pizza, tonight wasn't all that bad, he found himself thinking to himself.

Scott shook his head. "No. We looked all over that field and we couldn't find it. I think whoever killed the Were, took his head." Stiles raised an eyebrow at that. "You mean like some sort of trophy for having killed a werewolf or something? Because that's just disgusting on so many levels. Like, can you catch rabies from-" He hadn't meant to wander off topic, it just sort of happened. But Derek spoke up and interrupted his, what could only be assumed as, bombard of questions no one had any answers for. "Shut up, Stiles." He huffed but the usual annoyance present in his tone of voice was less than normal and Stiles couldn't help but feel a little bit of grim satisfaction over that. "Does this happen often? I mean, hunters are only supposed to hunt those who hunt them. Meaning that if hunters killed this guy, he must have done something to violate that code of theirs." Silence filled the room after Derek finished; everyone too shocked to even breathe let only reply.

Stiles stared at Derek from the corner of his eye. Of course those words weren't something the other would usually say in a situation like this, but Stiles was aware that this Derek was different from usual Derek. This Derek was still innocent and hadn't been betrayed and broken by someone he'd stupidly trusted. He still believes that people would follow rules and things would be fine. And that made Stiles' chest ache in sympathy for him. Judging from the others' silences, no one wanted to be the one to break it to Derek that people, both supernatural and human, are complete and total asshats who bend rules when they wanted things their way. So it fell to his Stiles because he was the one who didn't seem fazed by the seventeen-year-old's biting remarks and broody attitude. In fact, he could feel the others' gazes moving from Derek to him and back again so what choice did he have?

"Hunters have been attacking shifters and others like you guys for awhile now, I have no idea exactly how long but probably right after they made that stupid code of theirs, for no reason at all. And we've had this problem in the past, so it's pretty hard to believe that this one time the werewolf actually deserved what he got." Stiles finished without once getting distracted but no one seemed to notice that and he rolled his eyes.

Derek sighed and looked down at his hands clasped firmly in his lap. "Things really have changed, haven't they?" He muttered more to himself than to anyone else. Everyone obviously heard him but no one commented on it. And somehow Stiles resisted the _very_ strong urge to yank Derek close and hug him and pet that soft looking hair of his in an attempt to comfort him. But Derek, both young version and old, wouldn't have stood for it.

"What I don't get," Lydia started, "is why they would just leave the body right there for anyone to stumble across." Scott's brow furrowed in confusion as if he didn't know what Lydia was getting at, which was most likely the case seeing as how he could be quite slow on occasion. "Wait. Why does it matter if they didn't clean up their mess? They do it all the time and usually try to frame us for murder in the process." Lydia shook her head and did her best to explain to Scott. "He was already shifted. We all saw his claws. None of the others have ever been like that. If this doesn't scream 'there's something fishy going on here because lookie I have wolf claws,' I honestly don't know what does." Scott's lips made an "O" of understanding as her words sunk in and she nodded before continuing. "Allison told me about how her dad said hunters like to keep things neat so the police don't bumble around and stir everyone into a panic because they have no idea what they're dealing with." Stiles harrumphed at the part about bumbling cops because, hey, his dad was the sheriff and he most certainly did not bumble into anything. Except for maybe the nightstand when he stumbled into his bedroom in the middle of the night after a particularly long extended time at the station. But that was neither here nor there.

"So we're either dealing with very amateur hunters or people killing werewolves just for fun? I mean, what are the chances of either happening now and for what reason?" Stiles said, glancing between the faces of the people he cared for and loved more than much anything else in the world. Scott sighed and scratched the back of his head as he searched for an answer. "I honestly don't know. I wasn't able to pick up any scent and neither was Malia. We all just need to be careful and on the lookout for anything suspicious." He glanced from face to face to emphasis his point that he meant everyone. "We're a pack. All of us. Even you, Derek," he pointed out to the werewolf that looked like he wanted to be nowhere else but far from Beacon Hills and all of its craziness. "So we look out for one another. At school and after."

"Wait. Derek doesn't go to school with us so how can we look after him? It's not like we can have Lydia skip every day to puppy sit," that earned him a growl from Derek, "because her grades would start to fall eventually. And we can't enroll him because some of our teachers have been there for centuries and I'm sure they'll remember Derek's face." Stiles pointed out but Scott just shrugged and looked at the werewolf in question. "Would you be willing to stay with Deaton? The veterinarian you attacked when you woke up after Mexico? I know you don't know this, but he was your family's Emissary so you can trust him. We trust him."

Derek thought about it for a moment, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He knew who Scott was referring to, but he was still wary. He had no idea who his pack's emissary had been but the locak veterinarian? It seemed plausible enough. But Derek still didn't trust it anymore than he had from the beginning. However, Scott was an Alpha and Derek was a Beta who had no desire to fall to an Omega even if he didn't trust the members of Scott's pack as much as he should be able to. "Yeah, that's fine. But he's not my _puppy sitter _as Stiles phrased it. I can leave his clinic whenever I want and not have to answer to anyone. I need a pack but until you guys prove yourself, I can't think of you as my packmates. Particularly these three," he jutted fingers at Malia, Lydia, and Stiles.

Malia shrugged offhandedly. "That doesn't bother me. I don't like you either." However it was another knife in Stiles' heart He didn't let it show though. He never let it show. Lydia still glanced in his direction, though, ready to defend his trustworthiness. Instead he smiled and clapped Derek on the back warmly. "That's okay, dude. Since you live here you have plenty time to learn to trust me! Like, you can trust me to put the seat down after I get up to pee in the middle of the night."

Scott brought the conversation back on track then before Derek could make a comment about Stiles and leaving the seat up- Which he _always_ seemed to do. "Okay, so that's settled. It's almost eleven thirty so we should be going home. Kira, I'll drive you home." The Kitsune smiled, a blush lighting her cheeks at the thought of wrapping her arms around Scott's waist and resting her cheek against his shoulder as the rode his motorbike to her house. Malia had been living with Lydia since she had no home to go to and the Martin house had more than one extra bedroom. A short explanation about how Malia's dad and her had had a fight and that she needed a place to stay until they made up told to Mrs. Martin all but guaranteed the were-coyote a place to live for as many days as she needed. So Malia and Lydia would be driving home together, leaving Stiles and Derek alone until the Sheriff arrived home whenever he'd finished enough work at the station.

Stiles hugged Lydia goodbye before she slid into the driver's seat with Malia in the passenger seat. She'd reminded him to text her if he needed any advice on dealing with Derek and he'd rolled his eyes but agreed to that. Malia actually waved as Lydia backed out of the driveway and Stiles grinned as he waved back. "She's learning!" He cheered to Scott who'd come up next to him to say goodbye.

"Maybe she'll stop growling at her math text book next," the Alpha joked, giving his best friend a one-armed hug. "Listen, I know you're human but still be careful. They might be after you too since you're a part of the pack. Don't go do anything stupid without at least telling me first."

"Hey!" Stiles protested, feigning insult. "I always invite you along when I have stupid idea. That's what best friends do, man. But seriously," he fixed a serious glance on Scott. "You have to be careful too. I know you're Mr. Big Bad True Alpha over here but a Wolfsbane laced bullet and you're gone. And as much as I hate to say it, I need you, dude. We all do. If I'm going to find out what's wrong with Derek I'm definitely going to need your help."

"Don't worry," Scott flashed a toothy grin, "I'll be careful. With you at my side and the pack behind me, who would dare attack Mr. Big Bad True Alpha?" Stiles just snorted and shook his head. "Go. Your girlfriend's waiting." Scott's cheeks flushed with heat and shoved Stiles playfully but a little bit too hard and he stumbled into the door frame. "S-she's not my girlfriend," he protested, glancing back toward where Kira stood next to his bike, hoping she hadn't over heard their exchange. "Bye Stiles." Scott waved and jogged toward Kira.

Stiles watched them ride away and sighed, rubbing his probably bruised shoulder as he walked into the house and locked the door behind him. The house was uncomfortably quite but Stiles was used to it since he spent so much time alone there while his father worked. But tonight it was stifling and Stiles wanted more than anything to not be alone. He wasn't exactly alone _alone_ since Derek was still there but he probably already locked himself in his room, brooding away the night by himself. Sure enough when Stiles climbed up the stairs and headed toward his bedroom, the room to Derek's door is shut and most likely locked to keep Stiles out. Not that Stiles would go in there without knocking. He'd already learned that lesson on the second night Derek had stayed.

So he walked into his room and sat on his bed, staring silently out the window and thinking. His mind wandered but the same thought kept appearing. How to get Derek back to normal. The hunter thing was important, yes, but he wasn't sure if he could stand this for much longer. He fell backwards, spreading out his arms and sighing deeply. Perhaps Derek should go to Scott's. After all he seemed to like the Alpha _so_ much more than he liked Stiles… Wait. Was… Was this jealousy? Holy fuck. He was _jealous _of his best friend and a guy he liked but who disliked him. How you got this low, Stiles asked himself, I'll never now. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, curling into a ball. "Fuck it all. Fuck Derek. Fuck Kate and her Berserkers…" He muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off into sleep.

* * *

_There. Scott with a katana sticking out of his chest, blood dripping down from the torn flesh and landing on the floor in splashes. His brown eyes flashing with betrayal and shock as Stiles twists the weapon cruelly. He takes pleasure from doing this. From the betrayal. He enjoys it. No. HE doesn't enjoy this. Stop, he shouts voicelessly, I don't want this! There's a flash and then- He's packing nails into a box, effortlessly creating a bomb and wrapping it with paper. He wants to giggle in amusement. His plan is ingenious and without fault. Who would suspect the awkward boy from killing his own father? Stiles tries to fight it, to stop taking pleasure in committing such heinous acts but he can't stop it. He's defenseless, powerless. Just a human. A human who can do nothing but stand by as he puts his own friends in danger. His screams are silent but his own pain grows and that sick and infected part of him enjoys it. So much blood…_

"NO!" Stiles screams and tosses around in the bed, somehow managing to get himself tangled in the blankets and sheets. The nightmare is never-ending but right now he doesn't even know he's dreaming. It's so real and it's slowly killing him. He screams out in pain, tears actually spilling from beneath his closed eye lids as he flails, constricting himself even more. Usually when this sort of thing happens the Sheriff drops everything and rushed the aide his son, shaking his spastic body and shouting at him. But the Sheriff isn't home yet and won't be for another few hours.

When this sort of thing happens, Derek is more than aware of what's going on in the room next to his. He can smell Stiles' fear and panic, hear his screams as if he were in the same room as well as the erratic beats of his panicking heart. He can also hear when the Sheriff rushes in and does everything in his power to awaken his tortured son. But tonight is different. There is no Sheriff; only Derek. Stiles isn't his concern so he should just focus on something else and ignore it. But he can't. Derek lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, Stiles' whimpers and shouts ringing in his ears until he can't take it anymore. The werewolf leaps from his bed and throws open his door, barging into Stiles' opened room without even giving much thought to his actions.

Derek grabs at the other's flailing arms, pinning them above his head only to be rewarded with a well aimed kick to the gut. His groan is mixed with his growl as his inner wolf starts to leak out, making him tighten his grip on Stiles' wrists. "Dammit, just wake up!" He growls, throwing himself on top of Stiles to keep him from squirming anymore. But Stiles just increases the force of his wild bucks as if Derek is now the enemy he has to fight off. Somehow the both roll off the bed and on to the floor, landing unceremoniously in a pile of tangled limbs and sweat stained sheets.

The fall to the floor is enough to snap Stiles out of whatever it was he was dreaming about and he struggles into a sitting position only to knee Derek directly in the nose. Derek growls, clawing at the sheets over his head and flashing cerulean blue eyes at Stiles. "What the hell is your problem?" Derek hisses. Stiles just stares in confusion. He remembers the nightmare exactly as it had been, yes, but why the hell was Derek in his room, on the floor, with his legs thrown over his? He blinks, giving his head a shake to clear the left over cobwebs. Derek's eyes have faded back to their usual green and his claws are normal, human fingernails once again.

"Where's my dad? Did you- Oh." And suddenly Stiles in humiliated with the thought that Derek just witnessed one of his weaker moments. The other never brought the topic up though Stiles knew there was no doubt that Derek was aware of what was going on with him at nights. And Stiles liked it that way. He didn't want people to see him as week. Especially not Derek. And during his nightmares was when he felt the most weakest of all.

But Derek just brushes his awkwardness off. "Whatever. Your screaming was distracting and I wanted it to stop so…" That wasn't the exact reason. Before rushing over while he was just listening, Derek couldn't stifle this overwhelming concern and fear for Stiles and it was nearly suffocating him. But he didn't need to know that and Derek was too embarrassed to admit it. How was it that he already had so much care for a human he'd only met a few days ago? It was too confusing. "What was your nightmare about?"

That question was the one Stiles had been dreading since Derek had moved in. His father never questioned him, knowing talking about it only made things worse. Maybe Derek's question was only meant to switch the topic from his obvious lie about wanting the screaming to stop but Stiles still didn't know how to respond. Back when Derek wasn't an obnoxious and brooding teenager, there was a strong chance that Stiles would have opened up to him and told him exactly the dream had been about. But he couldn't do that now. Not yet. At least not until Derek was ready to stop focusing on his "poor poor pitiful me" situation and start being the totally bad ass werewolf Stiles knew him to be.

"Just some stuff that happened last year," he brushed the question away with the simple reply. Not wanting to give the other time to fire a new question Stiles struggled to his feet and held out a hand to Derek. "Yeah, so this is awkward. But I'm awake and your awake so how about we go make some pancakes? Because seriously, the best time to eat pancakes is during the middle of the night. Especially when there's no one around to judge your weird eating habits. What do you say?"

Derek found himself wanting to ask for more clarification and actually wanting to help Stiles. And if Stiles hadn't switched the topic, he might have asked for it. Instead he welcomed the change and took a moment to calm down. He didn't need to have feelings for Stiles. Or anyone else for that matter. Because in the end, they'd just be taken from him. Just like Laura, his mother, Paige, and everyone else who'd died because of him.

He cleared his throat and accepted Stiles' hand, using it to pull himself to his feet. "I haven't had pancakes in a long time and they actually sound really good right now." The smile that illuminated Stiles' face was so worth the lie. Derek hated sweet things, particularly pancakes. But maybe he could ask for jam instead of syrup.


End file.
